


Kidnapping

by Entice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entice/pseuds/Entice
Summary: The day was supposed to be like any other; another concert planned and analysed down to the last detail. The two digits marked in red on a paper wall calendar gave no warning. When his eyes fluttered open on the plane nobody hit him in the arm and said “It’s today.” How could have he known?On August 23rd he could only laugh at Liam’s snores and think about the clothes he would wear for that evening’s show.





	1. The Two Devils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> That little thing here was written years ago, was actually published here before as well. I decided to re-write some parts, make some changes and I feel like I'm ready to share the story with you again!
> 
> Thank you _so much_ for reading and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Xx

**The Two Devils**

* * *

 

_The day was supposed to be like any other; another concert planned and analysed down to the last detail. The two digits marked in red on a paper wall calendar gave no warning. When his eyes fluttered open on the plane nobody hit him in the arm and said “It’s today.” How could have he known?_

_Brushing his matted hair away from the sweaty forehead, Louis reached out to grab a bottle of mineral water from his bag. A glimmer of light from the window fell over the seat 148; in that very moment it was as if he was the only passenger on that flight to LA. Flying eight kilometres above the ground; the clouds were within hand reach and the sun galled skin with all its power._

_Harry slept with his legs placed on the seat in front of him, muttering incoherently as his fists tightened on the colourful fabric of a plane blanket. He was so uneasy. Was he dreaming about that day? If only Louis had known… He would have run away from that city as quickly as possible, losing his breath, not looking back. He would have waded through the crowds of unaware people, far away from there; dragging Harry with him._

_But he couldn’t have predicted the future and now his soul will pay the price. Will it be possible to pick up its shattered pieces?_

_On August 23 rd he could only laugh at Liam’s snores and think about the clothes he would wear for that evening’s show._

*

Screaming crowd is already waiting outside the airport’s main building; posters with their faces reflect in the bright sunlight. He watches it all from behind the safety of his black sunglasses. Plastic smile lights up his face as he leads the others out of the metal gates.

They are shouting and pushing at each other, accidentally tearing apart posters and notebooks. The more passionate ones clutch onto the fans in front of them. They just want to get a little bit closer, just to get to the barriers. Quick breaths and eyes glistening with tears; bare legs and trembling hands. Tanned bodies doused in fruity perfumes, loosened hair. _Daddy’s girls_ with their iPhones and Prada bags.

And all of that just for five lads.

He just has to keep smiling and sign the papers that are being thrust into his face. Louis’ lips begin to ache; when one doesn’t want to smile, it’s tough to convince people otherwise.

Harry walks to his left, while Liam, Zayn and Niall keep their distance three steps behind, each standing next to a different girl. Their signatures and smiles are robotic; black pens touch notebooks at almost the same time. The air around them is thick and hot, Louis’ body screams for a cold shower and an air conditioned hotel room. Sweat already begins to dot his forehead. Security guards stand proudly in front of them, occasionally talking on their walkie-talkie’s.

“Louis, you look amazing today,” says small girl with blond hair and a tight top that looks more like a swimsuit than an actual _top_ ; her voice loud enough to cut through all the noise. Louis just nods his head, trying his best to avoid looking at the girl’s face. It couldn’t be a bigger lie – he knows _exactly_ what he looks like after ten-hour overnight flights – he can barely stand on his own two feet, never mind looking presentable without any make-up on or hair done. Even he knows his limits.

A few minutes pass and Louis and Harry are lagging behind due to the enormous amount of girls wanting a hug, a picture or just a signature. The sun still shines directly on top of Louis’ head, creating black spots in front of his eyes. Deciding to take the black sunglasses off, he tucks them away in his pocket. The world suddenly seems more real than it had a moment before. The cool breeze that he can feel on his face is relieving. As Louis lowers himself to sign another piece of paper, he notices something disturbing; or actually _someone_. There is a young man wearing a beige flannel and ripped jeans; a seemingly normal guy, but seeing him stand amongst a swarm of excited teenager girls is a tad concerning. Louis tries to keep the guy in his sight, all while avoiding signing a face or two by accident; not that they would mind, of course.

He moves at the same pace as Louis and Harry, manoeuvring between all the girls with practiced ease. Light locks of hair fall on his forehead, his face locked in a mysterious grimace. Cold shiver runs down Louis’ spine – nobody ever looked at him like that. He is staring directly into his pupils, as if burning a hole into Louis’ skull.

Suddenly he seems… darker.

He seems out of place, emitting a shadow as if he is from a different fairy tale. The sleeves of his shirt are too long, fully covering his hands. The weather hasn’t changed, but Louis starts to shiver; tiny layers of white frost appear on everyone’s clothes. When he exhales, he can see his own breaths forming small puffs.

“Lou, is everything alright?” Harry lightly grips Louis’ shoulder, dodging the hands reaching out for him at the same time.

Louis’ head is spinning. _No, nothing is fine!_

He swallows quickly, his throat parched and unable to make a sound.

He takes a few breaths before nodding, “Sure.”

Louis inches away from Harry while still keeping his eyes locked on the man. Nobody else has even noticed that something is seriously _wrong_. Screaming fans, cameras’ flashes… That is all that matters.

Even though his head starts spinning with anxiety and _unreasonable_ fear, he still manages to sing a few more autographs with his shaky hand. He’s nervously glancing around, but the man is nowhere to be found. _What the hell?_ That only makes Louis’ heart beat faster, more rapid. He can be everywhere, even closer than Louis thought. The guards have all the same expression and relaxed muscles; it looks like everything is fine. Fine. _Fine_.  Maybe it’s all just in Louis’ head, he didn’t close his eyes even for a second on the plane after all…

Zayn is taking a picture with some twins. Niall is painting something on a laughing brunette’s stomach. Why is Louis the only one to notice anything?! Why couldn’t he calm down?! It’s just one of _those_ feelings. Something is bound to happen, like that fucking calm before the storm.

And then the whole world seems to stop. Harry’s lips begin to move in a slow motion; the American flag hanging near the gates waves unnaturally slow.

Only fifty meters to the bus, fifty meters to the parking lot, fifty meters to the television SUV’s. Fifty meters to the gates of tranquillity. Louis speeds up, not really caring about the crowds’ begging and screaming, because at that moment his heart is beating to its own unsteady rhythm, threatening to come out of his chest. His slender fingers are clenched into fists; when - _if_ \- he gets to the car there will be only half an hour drive to the city centre. And everything will be fine again. 

His eyes are fire, anger and darkness. How can a man look that way?

Paul is on his mobile as he slowly walks near the rest of the guards; he doesn’t notice anything disturbing either. Is everyone _blind_? Only twenty meters… Fifteen… Oh _God_. That’s him. Louis stops; the ground underneath his feet feels as if it could crumble any moment. He’s drowning in a swamp, is sucked into a terrifying mass. Only now he realizes how tall and unbelievably skinny the man is – even skinner than Zayn or Niall. Pale. A ghost on two feet. There are hundreds of people all around, but Louis is _alone_ with him – like a fly trapped in a glasshouse with a carnivorous plant.

His smile is vindictive, ironic. He’s looking at Louis like he is a _toy_. He somehow manages to evade the crowds and stand right there, at the end of the path, between the barriers.

On the other side of the crowd an identical man has appeared. Maybe a bit smaller, but with the same cheeks and angular bones. They are together, without a doubt. Louis squeezes his eyes shut, hoping it’s all a nightmare. But when he opens them again, he can only see his two _devils_ waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. This is the atheist’s price – he’s got _his_. Liam, Niall and Zayn hand out their last signatures and walk towards the bus; the two pale men stay still, waiting for something Louis doesn’t even dare to think about.

“Harry, wait up!” Louis hears himself shout. When the men realize he could see them, they surge forward with angry expressions. Harry turns around and waits for some explanation.

“What?” he asks, not yet receiving any answer.

Louis bits his lower lip and tracks the men with his eyes. Police in the front, Paul in the front, Liam, Niall and Zayn in the front. The television guys in the front. Harry and he… are in the back. This is a cage; a trap. Screaming fans create thick bars of the cage that separates them from the security. They are so blindly in love with their idols that they can’t _think_ clearly.

“Let’s go.” Louis takes Harry’s hand and drags him in the direction of the bus. The black haired boy shakes his head – amused – and firmly releases his hand from Louis’ grip.

“C’mon Louis, there’s no rush, few more pics won’t harm us,” he says and smiles politely to the girl standing behind Louis.

How can he be so _stupid_?! Louis trembles more and more, his head is pounding and the pulse quickens in his temple. Sweat begins to drip down his face, caused by _fear_ this time – not heath. He could scream for Paul with all the air that’s in his lungs, but the man still wouldn’t hear him. He could give signs, but Paul wouldn’t notice them – he is too busy talking to Ben. Louis could wave with his hands to the rest of the guys, but they wouldn’t see him from behind the dark glass of SUV’s window.

He could try and convince Harry, but the latter is too freaking _kind_ to say “no” to the fans.

And that’s exactly what they count on. Louis doesn’t know _who_ they are, but they certainly are not here to wish them “good luck”. They probably even have guns. Where is he supposed to go? What is he supposed to do? In the back of his head he can already see the barrel of a revolver aimed at one of them. Loud screams of adoration would morph into the screams of panic if the shot is rang out.

And then one of them would be lying down.

_Maybe let’s draw straws, Harry?_

Louis is stiff. He takes a few steps forward, feeling their eyes on his back the whole time. He closes his eyes again. _God_. When both Harry and he pass the barriers, somebody grabs Louis’ hand and hits him hard in the head. As he passes out, he notices Harry slowly falling into the devil’s arms as well.

They had the best security in the United States, but during those few seconds they were completely invisible to them.

Just like _they_ wanted.


	2. Why didn’t you listen to me, Harry?

**Why didn't you listen to me, Harry?**

* * *

 

It feels like he was asleep for a several years, at least. In a sleep deep as an ocean, with no intention of coming back to reality.

_I see stars and colourful plumes._

_Golden Venetian sparkling masks; both grimaced with sadness and unnaturally happy ones._

_I hear small elves’ whispers flying inside my head. They are warning me from opening my eyes. Forbidding to show any life signs. One of them takes off his big green hat and bows low. He has a shiny baldness and a thick moustache._

“Louis…”

_A butterfly with delicate purple wings settles on my nose. It has a woman’s head that sends me an invisible kiss._

“Louis…”

_I’m standing under a branchy apple tree, the sun shines through the green leaves. Harry leans against the thick tree trunk and eats a juicy red fruit. He starts waving at me, making colourful notes to fly out of his hands._

“Wake up, little star…”

_I’m sitting on the edge of an abyss, carefully leaning my head out. The wind blows into my face, ruffling the hair. I can see thousands of bats up in the sky._

Louis doesn’t listen to the elves’ advices; with a great effort he opens his eyes.

He finds himself face to face with his worst nightmare. The man with sharp white cheeks and burning irises is leaning over him, brushing Louis’ hair away from his forehead.

Louis tries to scream, but his voice is muffled by a gag in his mouth. In a few seconds it is clear that his hands and legs are also tied up. The thick rope scrapes his skin, changing its colour to dark pink. He’s lying on a dusted wooden floor, with a very perceptible musty stench. He tries to move, but the _devil_ doesn’t really care. He just laughs sneeringly and gets back up to his feet. The world from down here looks terrible. All the creatures from Louis’ dreams were right, it was better not to wake up.

Louis’ head hurt. Where is he? Where is _Harry?_ The answer is not that clear. He is in some kind of a room… If that place is even acceptable to live in at all. Dark curtains cover the windows, not letting even a ray of daylight in, so the room is filled with an unpleasant darkness. There is no bed, no shelves. Only a small table lamp with a blue rosary wrapped around it stands on an old desk. Louis feels dizzy all at once, should he start believing in God _now_?

He groans with despair and tries to free his hands and legs at all costs. It turns out to be impossible. The man only crosses his arms and looks at him without a shadow of sympathy.

“There’s no need to bother that much, sweetheart,” he whispers with a hoarse voice. “Much more is yet to come.”

There’s no way he’s lying, he doesn’t look like someone who likes to joke around. Louis _knows_ him – he’s the taller one. He’s wearing that way too big beige flannel and ripped jeans. Untied laces from his sneakers are slowly changing its colour from white to grey. Even in the darkness Louis can see his pale face.

Where is Harry? _God…_ Where is Harry? He’s scared. So scared that he’s losing his mind. Police is probably already looking for them. The information about their missing is probably spread all over the news. Only that thought is giving him some sort of relief.

Suddenly someone comes in.

“Friedrich, the other one is awake.”

Louis recognizes him immediately, too. So he was right, they _are_ working together. Now, as they are standing right next to each other, Louis realizes they look alike. The same hair colour, features and that terrible… paleness. The burning eyes. The second man looks a lot younger and more serious, though. His shoes are tied and the jeans he’s wearing are not ripped. He walks in casually, like Louis isn’t lying right there on the floor, still fighting with that _fucking_ ropes. But… did he say _the other_ one?

“Oh, that’s amazing, because my Little Prince here is awake as well.” The man called Friedrich smiles at Louis shamelessly. What the hell is he talking about? Little Prince?! Fuck him and fuck his nicknames! Where is Harry? Where the fuck is _Harry_?

The smaller man looks at Louis, completely unmoved.

“What now, then?” he asks quickly, looking for something inside his pocket.

Friedrich is completely calm. He tears his gaze away from Louis, gets away from the desk and leans over his friend. His voice is so quiet that Louis can’t hear a _damn_ thing. The other one just nods. He takes out a cigarette from the pack he found in his jeans, puts it into his mouth and lights it up. The stiffing musty smell is now mixed with a harsh smell of tobacco. 

“Well done, well done,” Friedrich repeats. “You’re getting better, little brother.”

Louis freezes. The whole _world_ stops.

Are they a family? A duo of psychopathic brothers kidnaps Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Why? Well, ransom, of course. They want money! They look like they could use some… And there’s nothing better for poverty than kidnapping celebrities and demanding _huge_ money, right? They thought it well. They’re going to get quite a sum for the two out of five of One Direction.

“Bring him here, Niklas,” says Friedrich and comes over to the covered window.

Louis knows their names, now. Their tick accents suggest they are not from the States, or at least that they were not born and raised here. But how can he be sure? How long did they plan this _thing_ they’re doing? Did they just one day decide they were to kidnap two people, without any consequences?

_Please, Niklas, bring Harry…_

Niklas throws half-burned smoke down to the floor and leaves the room. Louis doesn’t dare to move, Friedrich still within his eye sight, next to the window. He’s too scared to risk an escape, moreover, how would he even do that with the ropes so tight around his skin? So he’s listening, attentively. By the corner of his eye, Louis notices still light-up smoke on the wooden floor. What a _twat_ , that could easily cause a fire and then their ransom comes to nothing.

“How are you feeling now, Louis?” Louis can hear Friedrich’s ice-cold voice again. He stresses the last word, _his name_ , especially – like he wants to prove some point. “Look at you, do you really believe that you’re teenagers’ idol?” he asks, not expecting the answer. There’s no anger or spite in his voice. “You look more like a rag doll to me, to which I can do whatever I want to… Are you still so sure you’re in the middle of the world and that it revolves around you?”

Louis keeps his watery eyes locked on the once brown floor and counts the seconds till he can see Harry again. Knowing that he’s not alone in this helps… no matter how _terrible_ that sounds.

Friedrich turns around, comes over to Louis and puts his fingers into the boy’s hair again. His gaze sneaks into Louis’ brain like a snake; spreading his venom inside, poisoning nerves and dendrites along the way.

Louis feels sicker with every second passing.

Before he can ask more pointless questions, the footsteps can be heard and Niklas re-enters the room. This time, with Harry.

_Finally…_

Harry doesn’t have the rope wrapped around his ankles, but apart from that he is in the same condition as Louis. His hair is dishevelled, covering most of his face. He has a few scratches on his left cheek, but he’s… _alive_. When he notices Louis, he screams something terribly, gag preventing the older boy from understanding. He starts to fight with one of the brothers, but it turns out to be completely in vein. Maybe they are not too muscular, but they definitely have strength. And that isn’t helping.

“Should I tie his legs back?” asks Niklas, hesitation clear in his voice.

Even from the spot on the floor one can get to know a lot of things. Apart from the names, family bonds, possible origin, Louis also knows who’s in charge. Friedrich seems to be a good organiser and that was him who was to plan all of that _shit_.

“There’s no need to do that,” he snorts, changing the tone of his voice; while talking to Louis he was calm and controlled. “Untie him completely. They need all of their limbs now.”

Gooseflesh covers Louis’ skin. They are playing with them, like with vulnerable puppets. _You’re more like a rag doll_

They _are_ in control.

The only thing Louis needs all of his limbs for now is escape. But that’s probably not what they mean.

Friedrich walks up to Louis and starts untying the ropes from his wrists. It hurts. The rope is made with something resembling sandpaper; it leaves ugly scars on a delicate skin from rubbing again and again and again… Niklas removes the rope from Harry’s wrists, replacing it with deep wounds as well.

Soon after Louis can stand on his own. Rotten taste of sawdust fills his gullet, slowly sliding into his stomach. He’s full of anger, _rage_. But who is he angry with, though? Fate?

When Harry is free of his ties, they don’t hesitate any second. Louis runs to him and hugs him with all his strength. They won’t kill them for a bit of sensitivity, right?

“Louis… I-I’m so sorry, I should… Should have listened…” Harry stutters the words, his voice quiet, scared. He hugs Louis as if he wants to _sink_ into the other boy.

 A weight is lifted from Louis heart. Many more await their turn.

Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he just runs his fingers through Harry’s hair. _I love you I love you I love you We’ll be alright I love you_

“Alright, enough of that drama,” growls Niklas and brutally breaks their hug off, taking Harry away.

Friedrich is looking at Louis with his eyes half opened. He looks like Satan, like he can stab the boy any moment now, tear his heart from the chest. No remorse. This is the first time his eyes burn with _such_ fire and pure _hate_.

“Do you see that TV?” He points with his finger to the darkest corner of the room. The old TV has been unnoticed until now. It isn’t too big, black; blending perfectly with the dark wall.

Louis just nods.

“Kneel in front of it.”

No way. What is he…?

Louis looks at Harry, fear in his eyes, but the black haired boy barely stands on his own legs. There’s no choice. With shaky steps they come over to the monitor and bend their sore knees obediently. It has to look at least _strange_. But keeping both of them alive is a bigger concern for Louis than judging their look. He can speak freely now, but decides to give up on this privilege. There is no point in asking questions. Why do they keep them here? Did someone force them to? What are they going to do with them? The answers could be too scary.

When Louis notices Niklas taking a leather whip out of one of the desk’s drawers, he can’t hold back the tears anymore.

_Why didn’t you listen to me, Harry?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, you lovely person, for stopping by and reading. I hope you liked it and will stay with me a little bit longer!
> 
> Xx


	3. The Fatal Game

**The Fatal Game**

* * *

Not being fully aware of what he’s doing, Louis bravely touches the TV screen. Specks of dust immediately stick to his fingertips. Now it’s not only his body that’s trembling, his lips tremble too. He places his hand over the boys visible on the screen with hope they can see him. Both of them. Standing back-to-back. Laughing. Happy and proud of their answers. The audience is happily clapping along with them. Some of the girls are crying. Liam, Niall and Zayn are watching the two of them from the dark sofa standing on the left hand side of the studio. The blond haired reported gives Harry and Louis two pink cardboard hands – but not really _pink_ , though. On the other side they are blue. Two-colour, necessary for the answers. Blue means _no_.  Laughter again, Louis doesn’t understand something. The reporter holds a piece of paper in her hands. Questions. _Are you romantic?_ Harry, no hesitation, shows the pink hand. Louis contrariwise. Different answers; laughter filling up the studio. The boy wearing white shirt shudders _I can’t help it_. Next one. _Would you ask a girl out for a dinner?_ They both laugh. The same colour, audience’s appreciation. Black haired boy’s satisfaction. They are one, again.

Suddenly, the picture is gone, the screen filled with the emptiness again, the room terribly quiet. Friedrich plays with the remote in his hand.

“Did you find the movie interesting enough?” Corners of his lips twitch ominously. “We forgot to bring the popcorn, but I don’t think you’re hungry.”

Harry hides his face in his hands and doesn’t even try to stand up. Louis himself feels as if somebody injected lead into his bones.

“How… how did you get that?” He hears a sound that he used to call his voice, but right now it is only a poor substitute.

“Not only _stars_ have a TV at home, princeling,” Friedrich answers, looking at Louis with great satisfaction. He is _better_. Not for the first time this day, he is standing _higher_. “Get up!”

When he’s mad it seems like the whole world is afraid of him. People are running away to their homes and children flee from the sandpits. Standing against him is equal to the immediate death. And Louis has never been a daredevil. He takes Harry’s hand and they do as they are told. Why did the brothers show them one of their first interviews? September 18th, 2010. That was so long ago…

_Almost eight years._

Harry has dark circles underneath his eyes and tightly clutches Louis’ hand, trying his best not to fall down. _I won’t let you_

Niklas admiring gaze is focused on the navy blue whip lying atop the desk. Do they intend on torturing…

_Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners_

“D’you want money?” Harry asks hesitantly. He looks at both of them, waiting for the confirmation. “You can demand a lot… They’ll pay…” Apparently he has thought about the same motives as Louis has. But given the brothers’ faces, that wasn’t a good guess.

Friedrich’s pupils melt into boiling lava. Louis doesn’t even notice the moment the older brother finds himself in front of Harry. The distance between their faces is getting smaller and smaller. Harry’s hand clenches even tighter on Louis’ skin as he opens his mouth in a silent scream.

“Why are you so sure?” growls Friedrich, almost touching Harry’s nose with his own. His every word is soaked with poison. “Are you really that special?” He shakes him. “Answer me! Are you?! I don’t give a fuck about you!”

“Leave him alone!” Louis thrusts his nails into the pale hands that are locked on Harry’s arms. Friedrich’s face shows pure astonishment; Louis uses that moment of surprise for his advantage and strongly pulls Harry behind his back. Harry is trembling and exhaling ragged gasps of breath that brush Louis’ neck.

They could shot him for that, beat him up, throw him out of the window or pour the acid on him, he still would have done the same. He would to _anything_ for Harry.

Friedrich watches as the blood slowly runs down his wrist and elbow; creating thin paths on the light skin, like a spider’s web. Crimson drops sink into his ripped jeans and fall down onto the floor. He seems entranced, not angry.

“Money will be the death of a human race,” points out Niklas. “The last thing we want on earth is that green shit.”

“You better tell our little diamonds to stand in the middle of the room, back to back.” Louis notices a sparkle of madness in his eye. He is like a vampire; red liquid like a vital fluid for him. He doesn’t wipe off any of it.

Chaotically scattered pieces start to create the whole picture. Louis’ eyes widen. That’s why they showed them the video…

_You’re more like a rag doll_

“Harry.” Louis turns around to him. They can’t run away, there’s no chance for that. They don’t even know if they are still in LA. They could be _any-fucking-where._

_Is this the end?_

The younger boy brings his finger over to Louis’ lips. Tears are filling his beautiful green eyes and falling down his cheeks.

On the legs that no longer belong to him, Louis walks over to the middle of the room. Harry does the same. Doubling the show, they stand back to back. Their shirts already wet. Deepening wounds created by the ties. Although Louis can’t see Harry’s face, he knows exactly what it looks like.

They are waiting for what is to come.

Niklas takes something else out of the drawer; he holds the rope similar to the ones previously wrapped around their legs and hands, but much longer this time. It is rolled into a small ball at first, but with time passing, it transfers into a biting viper.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he says, seeing fear in Louis’ eyes. “Others ended up worse than you.”

“What…” Louis stammers weakly.

What others? Oh _God_. What others?!

“Exactly what you heard.” Niklas is in no mood for discussion.

He wraps the rope around them so tight, that they can barely breathe. Louis' insides want a release; he’s on a verge of throwing up all over the floor _and_  himself.

Friedrich sits comfortably on the dirty armchair that Louis hasn’t noticed before either. He marks the seat with his blood, but doesn’t seem to care. A madman smile is back on his lips. Louis tries to fully focus on the grey laces of his shoes, not on _him_.

“I guess you know the rules, right?” he asks. “Of course now we’re gonna change them a bit. As you’ve probably noticed, we don’t have either the cameras or the audience, which is as distasteful as an old yogurt. So…” he grunts. “You’ve got three chances. If your answers are the same, nothing’s gonna happen to you, at least for now. But if you make a mistake, well, we will have to punish you, won’t we?” He makes a hangdog expression, but that’s probably the best day of his life.

“H-how…?” stutters Harry.

Does he really want to know that?

This time the words are not needed. Niklas walks around them, showing off like on some kind of exhibition: a leather whip, a kitchen knife, and a black gun with a barrel looking exactly as the one from Louis’ imagination back at the airport. The younger man puts the two cardboard hands into theirs – almost identical to the ones from the show. Two sides. Pink and blue.

“The first mistake – whip. The second one – knife. The third one…” Niklas laughs to himself. “Go figure. So you better analyse your life and start praying for similar memories.”

 If he could go to the church, Louis would confess for all those years living in sin.

 _Harry I love you I love you I love you_  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge _thank you_ to each and everyone of you for reading, you're the most lovely creatures in the world.


	4. The Red Cross

**The Red Cross**

* * *

“Do you believe in God?”

Shivers go down Louis’ body, his palms sweaty. He analyses Niklas’ words carefully for a few moments. That’s it. Honestly, they’ve never talked about faith. Lots of things were made up for the press. He shouldn’t really count on that. Did Harry pray? No… They’ve never went to church together. Louis doesn’t know what it was for Harry before the X-Factor though. They are both scared now, knowing they could die any moment. They see the world differently.

Louis takes his hand out, _blue_. He begs Harry to show the same. Seconds passing…

He quickly peeks at Friedrich and notices his eyes shining with joy.

“That’s bad, Louis, that our Lord is a stranger to you. That’s really bad…”

Louis can’t turn around to Harry, because the rope is tied too tight around them, but he knows which colour the younger boy has chosen. Different than the one he begged for.

“Harry, why…” he moans.

“I had to…” Harry coughs up, his teeth clenched. He moves anxiously. “I was sure that here… now…”

Niklas doesn’t let him finish. He’s happy like a child. He brushes his light hair away from his forehead and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel. He looks like a butcher; they just like animals waiting to be killed.

He hands Friedrich the leather object. Louis closes his eyes.

_Please, don’t hurt Harry. It’s me who’s a fucking idiot._

A whizz. Air ripped in two pieces. Burning skin on Louis’ legs and shoulders. He could hear his clothes crack under the force of the whip. Metallic smell. Warm liquid. They both stay silent.

“That’s enough, next question.” That’s not what Friedrich wants. He wants to hear their despair, their screams. “Were you ever jealous of each other?”

The cardboard hand falls out of Louis’ hands. He can’t think anymore.

“Give it back to him, Niklas. What are you waiting for?”

Niklas lowers himself to Louis’ feet with an exaggerated easement; ugly grimace marks his face when he looks at Louis’ designer shoes. They are probably worth more than his whole wardrobe.

“Here you are, princeling.” He pushes the cardboard back to Louis’ hands, killing the boy in his thoughts at the same time.

What the hell is he…? Question… He has to focus on the question. Were they ever jealous? Ah, of course. Louis has always thought that Harry was getting more attention of the fans and the media. Later on, there was a different kind of jealousy… All the guys Harry was speaking to, looking and smiling at… Louis wanted to be the only one Harry focuses on.

The pink hand.

The brothers don’t look too pleased now. Bravo, Harry!

“If it’s about the sin, you’re all the same,” snorts Friedrich and his tongue moistens the lips. “Alright, in that case we’ll be changing our direction. Or maybe…” he stops for a bit. “Have you ever done something illegal?”

Louis doesn’t know. It depends on what’s on his mind. Once, with Niall and Liam, they went to that sophisticated restaurant and ordered _a lot_. After eating everything they just left, without paying. It’s kind of like stealing… Harry broke the mirror in one of their hotel rooms, after that big fight they’d had. Right before the Madison Square Garden concert. Is this the knife time? _God, help._ Louis’ head is spinning.

Pink.

Friedrich sluggishly gets up from the bloody chair and puts one hand on the desk.

“I’m sorry, my little stars.”

_Harry! Harry… you fucking prude…_

Louis can’t feel his heart anymore. He can’t hear their voices. He forgets what his name is. Harry trembles so hard. Even though Louis’ eyes are opened this time, he can still see that bald elf. He’s waving at him.

_What are you saying?_

Harry screams. It makes Louis stiff and cold, just like back then on the airport, while spotting Friedrich for the first time in the crowd.

_I love you I love you I love you_

“It’s your turn now.” Friedrich stands right in front of Louis, a small ray of sunshine breaks through the curtains and falls on the knife. The blood is clearly visible on its surface.

“What did you do…? Harry… What did you do to him…?” Louis begs, swallowing the tears. The worst nightmare. The one that you wake up from coated in sweat. But what do you do when the nightmare is real?

Friedrich moves the cutting edge closer to Louis’ face.

“Consider this as a favour. Purgatory may be an option for you now,” he says, sounding like he really believes in that. “You better not scream like your lover. My friendly advice…”

Louis didn’t feel anything before, but now… the pain blurs his vision; creates a thick wall between him and the rest of the world. Friedrich is manoeuvring with the knife on Louis’ face as if he is painting a beautiful picture. Louis is close to passing out.

_Angel… Is that water running down my neck?_

_Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem caeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium._

_Somewhere far away I can hear the whisper. Inconceivable. My tired mind works slower with every minute._

_Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero, genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri; per quem omnia facta sunt._

_Letters are flying around me, wanting to be understood. Several-meters flags stick out of the huge field. I walk between them and can feel them waving on the wind. Japan, Bulgaria, France. But they don’t match the spoken words._

_Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis. Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est._

_The space seems to have neither a beginning nor an end. More flags. I start to run. Looking all around I can’t find the right one. Dictionaries fall down from the sky, hurting my skin with their rough edges. My face hurts…_

_Suddenly everything is clear. Somebody shakes my shoulders and I come back from a long road._

“Do you want to take a look?” Niklas asks happily, as if he was a hairdresser to show his client the new hairstyle.

Louis doesn’t move, but the man puts the mirror in front of his face anyway.

Louis screams.

A red cross is carved into his right cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Xx


	5. The Last Question

**The Last Question**

* * *

 

Two to one, for them. They’re winning this game. Should Louis shake their hands? Congratulate? Clap? Or maybe even order chilled champagne and delicious dinner?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill them? One minute and it would be done. The boys would be just other victims to their collection. Gold trophies. Appreciation from the other villains. They would spit into police faces; would walk with their heads up high. They fooled the security, defeated the idols of millions – it was like trampling a sluggish worm on the ground under the feet, no bigger effort. When somebody figures out who was behind it all, they would be far away. Imperceptible. They can change their names, become different people. Are they going to kill more people? Is it – _killing_ – as addictive as drugs? One loses their mind and only a fresh victim can make them think _clearly_ again. That’s why Friedrich smiled while cutting into Louis’ body; it’s like getting your favourite gift.

_Amazing smell of Christmas tree, incomparable to anything else. Louis was filled with pure joy, tapping his finger on a crystal bauble. Big snowman with a black hat smiled at him cheerfully from the garden. Cords of electric lights were lightening his face. At the very top of the tree there was a glitter twinkling star that Harry had bought last year. Tones of Christmas carols were coming from the living room. Jay was marinating the fish, his sisters couldn’t sit in one place; all excited for the stack of red boxes placed underneath the tree. Harry was sitting in front of the fire place reading one of his hipster-ish books, sipping on mulled wine from time to time._

Louis is drifting away more often than before; even awake. His legs are numb. They’ve been standing still for a good three hours now. He thinks of his mom. His sisters. In his head he’s going to all the countries he hasn’t visited yet and probably won’t have a chance to. He dreams about the unwritten songs. Gigs that won’t be played. Newspapers’ headlines informing about the tragedy; special statements in media. Wreaths of roses and tulips lying at the door of their homes. Only one hearse and two mahogany coffins.

_Death_

Friedrich is holding one of the rags that were once placed in Louis’ and Harry’s mouth. He’s polishing the black gun with it, his whole attention focused on the movements.

Their last chance. One mistake and the gates of the other world will be opened for them. Louis is not deluding himself with salvation. Even if they somehow _somehow_ manage to answer a few more questions similarly, it would only postpone the inevitable.

_Harry Harry Harry together I love you_

“Are we ready for more riddles, diamonds?” Niklas slaps Louis on his sore cheek, intensifying the agony. More nicknames, nice. Related to jewels and wealth, is it some kind of allusion? Maybe they find the boys’ money earned in unworthy way – insulting to the people who spend hours in offices and drink loads of caffeine to survive.

Louis exhales the air he didn’t know he was holding in his chest, stroking coarse material of the colourful hand with his fingertips. Let it be…

“You know that your… miserable life is hanging by a thread, right?” says Friedrich, emphasizing on the value of their existence. “If the colours don’t match, we will have to prepare the solid spades, won’t we, Niklas?” He glances at his brother with a cold smirk on the lips. Mad happiness is so different from the real one. Louis hasn’t noticed that before… Living in his imaginary bubble, like that flower in “The Little Prince”; unfamiliar with true disasters and human stupidity.

“Alright, enough of that small talk,” firmly states the taller devil.

He puts the revolver on the armchair and stretches out afterwards. Killing someone is for him like a normal command. Take out the trash. Wash the dishes. _Kill them_. They believe that people like Harry or Louis need to be quickly put six feet under, and that’s it.

And Louis is saying his goodbyes to all of his dreams.

The only thing that keeps him _somehow_ sane is that he’s here with _him_. He can’t imagine being left alone in this world, being without Harry. He would probably give in to the pressure and just kill himself. A vicious circle.

“Question related to the current level of our little game,” says Friedrich trying to be mysterious. He sends Louis’ _that_ glance and firmly tears the rosary off the lamp. “Do you think…” He waves with it in the air, but Louis’ eyes notice only a weak blurred stain, “that after your death…” Louis desperately tries to find Harry’s hand with his shaky one _I love you I love you I love you_ , “you’re going to go to hell?” Friedrich crushes the azure beads into a pulp and scatters them onto the floor.

The first tear... hides in the bloody crucifix clearly visible on Louis’ right cheek.

The second one… cools his wounded shoulder.

The third one… sinks into his black shirt painting it a more expressive shade.

His lips move slightly, he’s never thought he’d be whispering in a prayer.

 

_Our Father, who art in Heaven,_

_Hallowed be Thy name._

_Thy kingdom come,_

_Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven._

_Give us this day our daily bread_

_And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,_

_And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil._

 

_Please please please I love him Don’t let them hurt him_

Pink hand. Is that the last mistake?

Friedrich exchanges cold glances with his brother. He crosses himself majestically and then, his unnaturally pale hand touches the gun.

_Amen_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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